


Fortress

by RADP



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Angst, Blood and Violence, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Like really slow, M/M, Nightmares, Outer Space, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Sci-Fi, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-02-28 02:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13261881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RADP/pseuds/RADP
Summary: "This ridiculous rag prince is supposed to be my new partner?"A rogue Shircon, on the run from the past, searching for a future.A lost human, afraid of change, uncovering the secrets of his memories.The story of Aven, who is looking for something he believes he’ll never find.The story of Ronus, who thinks he has lost something that maybe never even existed.A story of searching and finding.A story of losing and gaining.





	1. Keep Your Eyes Peeled

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Fortress](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13996131) by [RADP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RADP/pseuds/RADP). 



> (This is the english translation of my story 'Fortress'. You can find the original german version on my profile as well.)
> 
> Hey :)  
> So this story was stuck in my head for months now, and I'm finally getting it out there. I hope you enjoy it, let me know. 
> 
> Some points of information before we start:  
> > The story is set up in a Sci-Fi setting, but it focuses on the characters and their relationship. Don't expect a perfect science fiction experience, I guess this won't be happening here. But nonetheless I put a lot of effort in places, species and all this worldbuilding stuff. Imagine it a bit... Voltron-esque, I guess? Surely was an inspiration.  
> > Every chapter is named after a song, which served as an inspiration, shows the mood or influenced the scenes somehow. At the end of the chapters you can find the names along with some of the lyrics. Check them out, if you like to - I highly recommend it.  
> > I'm trying to do my best, but english is in fact not my native language - so please don't expect perfection here. If you could point out flaws, mistakes and other stuff you happen to find, I would be grateful! 
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> > As you can see in the tags, there are some pretty heavy topics coming up in this story, like psychological trauma, panic attacks and violence. If you are not dealing very well with these things, maybe reconsider before reading this - as they are an important part of this text.  
> > Also it's a reaaaally sloooooow Slow Burn. Like, really slow. Just saying. 
> 
> That's all for now, I guess. Have fun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first encounter and some shadows of the past.

 

 

 

**Chapter 1 – Keep Your Eyes Peeled**

 

                                        

Ronus felt sick.

Cold light was shining down on him in the empty hallway he was waiting in. The walls made of metal looked dull and dreary. As if they had already felt far too many glances moving over them and at some point they just stopped trying to look special in any way. Uniform, indifferent, smooth, blank, cold. He, too, had stared at such walls a thousand times and had scraped away their last sparks of originality with his eyes, letting the invisible shavings seep down into nowhere.

With every time he had to wait here, he felt it clearer: He didn’t belong here. Not in this awful, dismal hallway, incredibly stale and empty, and not even in this huge building, full of replaceable characters, as featureless and monotonous as these walls. He felt like they were ridiculing him with his distorted, barely visible reflection on the tarnished metal. Ronus didn’t belong here. He belonged nowhere. And this fact made him so angry, that he felt sick. Especially when he had to wait out here again.

He turned his eyes away from the insipid walls, let them gaze over the door next to him and then closed them for a moment. Maybe he could still calm his stomach down a little bit. Through his lids he could still recognize the pale light of the stifling corridor. From the room behind the door he heard muffled voices, but he didn’t really listen. Sickness and ire rumbled equally inside him, and he tentatively tried to concentrate, to distract himself, to somehow keep his mind busy- “ANCOAR!” A thundering voice suddenly ripped him from his thoughts. Ronus winced, opened his eyes and sighed unnerved. He slowly turned to the door and activated it with his palm. He felt quite certain that he couldn’t control the content of his stomach much longer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The air in the room was fuggy and stale. It smelt unpleasantly like cold sweat and duties. Cold light fell from the ceiling, enveloping the barren office in a clinically and unattractive atmosphere. The uniformed man sitting at the desk was tall, beefy, and emanating an aura that allows no backtalk. The sturdy Wosorgh typed in some information on his holo screen in front of him with his pale blue paws, his eyes fixated firmly on it. His face looked hard and angular, hardened by hundreds of battles and quite unyielding. His yellow, pupil-less eyes showed a strict expression as he was watching over the screen, and finally, after his fingers stopped typing, he also faced Aven, who had sat motionless and silent in front of the desk in a chair for several minutes, watching him.

“Cadet Surron,” he spat out.

Aven remained silent and just looked at him. His counterpart had a deep, throaty voice which matched his features perfectly.

“Take off your mask. You are talking to your superior.”

Technically, he did not even talk. And technically, the Commander was not yet his superior. One more time he glanced at the windows of the room, which were all shut and darkened. Then he removed the mask from his face and kept it in his hand. His eyes then rested on the Wosorgh in front of him again.

After several seconds of silence, the Wosorgh then realized that silence was in fact the answer of the now unmasked man, and he continued his monologue in a severe tone.

"As I understand from the documents, you bring with you all the necessary prerequisites for participation in this organization. Most pleasing."

The Wosorgh did not seem pleased at all. Instead he seemed irritated and suspicious. Aven remained silent.

“Why are you here?”

The unyielding look of the yellow eyes rested on him.

"Lieutenant Elphom told me to go to your office."

"I know that, spare us these comments. I ask WHY you are here?"

Aven reacted with indifference to the now slightly irritated look of his counterpart. The Wosorgh continued talking after a few seconds, without waiting for an actual answer – it was easy to see and hear his impatient tension.

"Stop trotting out a silent fairy tale here. It will not work," he hissed sharply, then took a deep breath. "I know the rites of your people. I can see that you are a fully trained Shircon. You wear the mask of the ancestors, the white cloaks of the three virtues, the double blades of the soul fracture, and you certainly also have mastered all the other knick-knack that comes with it. So, what do you want here?" The contempt and rage were hard to miss. The Wosorgh then added with a suspicious expression, "Why don’t you serve in the army of the a'Shir?"

Aven's gaze still rested on the beefy colossus in front of him. His voice was calm and quiet as he started to speak.

"I have served in the Zelchail, Commander Sator. I killed, murdered and beheaded countless people, and so on. I also did some other things. And now I am here."

"Pah. Are you kidding me? Are you really telling me you're looking for a change of scenery? You know where you are here, right?"

"In the office of Commander Sator, the responsible head of the base Lachanx of the Peace Corps Concordia."

The Wosorgh looked like he was about to burst. He narrowed his eyes and a vein appeared clearly visible on his neck. Aven just sat there and watched the adventurous, changing movements of his eyebrows, the twitching corners of his mouth and the wrinkles appearing on his forehead. It almost seemed to him, that the Commander simply did not like his answers, because they came out of his mouth with a quiet indifference and he lacked the performance of a ridiculous dance with his facial muscles and his voice. Sator's next words had a threatening undertone, which in no way impressed the a'Shir in front of him.

"Exactly – the Concordia is a peace organization. Not a conquering army. On Lachanx we take the task of maintaining stability and harmony in the galaxy of Glaerst quite seriously. I'm warning you, do not make fun of this."

"I suppose that in such an organization my skills will be quite useful." Aven remained focused and now came straight to the point – he grew tired of the swirling, uncontrolled face in front of him. "Commander, I'm not here to upset you or to just pass the time. I am here to offer my services to the Concordia. Do you want them or not?"

The Wosorgh continued to eye him suspiciously and quite irritated. He seemed to ponder the words of his next response. Moments later, Aven could tell by his narrowed eyes that his decision had been made. The Commander then cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure and stated in a stern tone:

"You hereby commit yourself to serve the Concordia to the best of your knowledge and belief. You will serve loyally and willingly in operations that benefit the well-being of the public, the galaxy and all free peoples, as well as the preservation and development of stability, harmony and peace. Do you understand that, Cadet Surron? Then say: I understand and commit to serve."

The threatening undertone had not quite disappeared when he recited this oath flawlessly. Apparently, he wanted to get it over with as fast as possible and no longer waste any time. After a brief pause, Aven's words sounded as calm and steady as ever.

"I understand and commit to serve."

The Wosorgh took note of that, wrinkled his nose a little and somehow his expression seemed a little more relaxed than before. He tapped the holo screen a few times, apparently to confirm something, and seemed more than unnerved by the whole procedure. Then he took a small object from a drawer, laid it on the desk in front of him and proceeded as unperturbed as possible with his monologue:

"As a Warrior Cadet you get this armour from the Concordia, which must be worn mandatory. You are free to continue wearing your other clothing and weapons. You will be assigned a partner with whom you will carry out training, assignments and missions. The first few weeks you will stay here in the base, completing the basic training of the Concordia and learn to form a unit with your partner and other teams. Do you have any questions?"

Aven remained silent. For a brief moment he had examined the small object on the desk, which obviously was supposed to be the armour. His gaze then returned to the Commander, and he did not fail to notice his raised eyebrows and his mouth, formed into a grimace that remotely reminded him of a snarky grin.

"Well, I thought so. The indifference of your species is predictable."

Remarkably, the a'Shir thought to himself, that the Commander made that statement now, after he had been upset and outraged by this very characteristic throughout the conversation. That very anger towards his indifference had been unmistakably noticeable in his tone, words and expression – the unreadable face of his counterpart obviously grinded his gears big time. Aven’s expression mostly remained blank, even without his mask – he had never considered this spectacular face circus as useful.

After a brief silence Sator continued, this time with a hard-to-interpret face that contained frustration, among other things. Maybe… mischievousness?

"Well then. Let’s get you acquainted with your partner. I hope you like humans."

Commander Sator roared, "ANCOAR!"

 

 

* * *

 

 

The door opened up with a whirring sound and cleared the way into Commander Sator's office. Ronus hated this room. Well, not just the room itself, which had the same ugly, dead walls as the corridor outside, but rather the overall situation that had to do with this room. He felt sick as he took the few steps past the occupied chair in the middle of the room to the desk of the annoyed, old Wosorgh. He could already sense his bad mood from across the room. And Sator on the other hand could see that the Cadet entering the room didn’t really care about the whole fuss here, as usually.

Every few weeks, they met each other like that: the Commander equally dutiful as frustrated and Ronus angry, disinterested and pale with nausea. Ronus thought to himself, that the Commander could actually be really glad that he wasn’t puking on his desk every damn time. Basically, it would be quite tempting to catapult a bunch of half-digested canteen food into the face of this unsympathetic bull, but Ronus had little to no desire for the consequences. He already had no desire at all to even show up here again and meet his supposedly one hundred and twelfth new partner. He had stopped counting them a while ago. In fact, he didn’t even really know why he was still with the Concordia in the first place, because he basically was like the problem child nobody could handle. And now there was another poor soul Sator had condemned to at least try.

The Wosorgh spoke in an irritable voice that resonated with a certain mischievousness. Ronus couldn’t exactly pinpoint at whom it was aimed, which made his eyebrow jump a little.

"Cadet Ancoar. This is your new partner, Aven ii'Coron daq Surronye of the a'Shir."

Ronus didn’t say anything, but turned to his right, to take a closer look at the strange figure in the chair behind him. The guy sat upright, wrapped in layers of white cloth, that reached down to the floor and also covered his head with a large hood. In one hand he held something that looked like a mask and under the hood he recognized a very human-like face, which he was a little glad about – at least in contrast to the ugly blue face of a Wosorgh. But his features seemed finer and the man's skin was a whole lot paler than that of a regular human, almost completely white. The eyes, that were focused on him, looked as if they were completely black and seemed to literally pierce through him. A cold shiver ran down Ronus’ spine and his already uneasy stomach didn’t take the weird feeling, that came over him, too well. He only peripherally heard that the Commander continued talking while he averted his gaze from the a'Shir's face and continued to study him.

"Cadet Surron, this is Ronus Ancoar of the humans."

Ronus grimaced slightly at the bitter comment, but did not let his gaze wander off the other Cadet. He had never before seen a representative of this light-shy species, but he had already heard of the Shadowfolk and its elite warriors. Of their white robes, of their masks covering up their whole face behind a white wall with pale grey patterns, as the guy held one just like them in his hand, and of their ever so outstanding fighting abilities. The stories had seemed like fairy tales to him, because they sounded as absurd. But right here in front of him one of these Shadows sat in a chair and seriously wore three identical white cloaks at once. Ronus finally turned his eyes away, snorted as unimpressed as possible and looked back at Commander Sator. With an annoyed expression and a malicious undertone, he tried to cover up malaise and amazement, as he asked into the room:

"This ridiculous rag prince is supposed to be my new partner?"

Within seconds the Commander’s face went dark blue, the well-known throbbing vein on his neck appeared and he showed an expression that definitely spelled trouble. He even rose from his seat in a flash and stood intimidating like a bull, seeing the obligatory red cloth, and very, very angry at his desk, both hands clenched into fists. That seriously had to be a new record, even for Ronus, who was very experienced in this rather special sport. A spark of pride crept into his grin, because after all, this single question had been enough to cause an explosion, and this early rage was just the ignition of which was starting to unravel. Revenge for the upset stomach, so to speak. However, while this reaction was foreseeable and Sator set up his lecturing roar as usual, Ronus turned to the a'Shir for an instant and searched his face for a similar agitation – but there was nothing. Nothing at all. No distorted mouth, no wrinkles in the forehead, no furrowed eyebrows, no punishing look. Nothing. Only the piercing, dark eyes that were still fixed on him. Ronus only withstood the intense gaze of the two black holes for a brief moment, then he quickly turned back to the Commander's crackling thunder.

"Ancoar, watch your mouth! I do not tolerate such indignities in my office! I DO NOT TOLERATE SUCH INDIGNITIES AT ALL! You know exactly that you are already accumulating enough problems because of your stubborn behaviour. So pull yourself together and pay attention to what you are saying. I’ve had it with your undisciplined behaviour! Behave like a soldier, not like a little, impertinent child. I don’t ask you to become best friends, but to work together and preferably not kill each other."

The tirade so far encompassed the usual elements that Sator always mentioned at this point, and Ronus accepted them with his usual bored face, apart from the uncomfortable feeling of the a’Shir’s stare at his back. He was still wondering if he should interject that this coat-wearing jumping jack couldn’t kill him anyway, when he suddenly noticed, that Sator was pausing his lecture. The intensity of his outburst seemed to be different this time, as the Commander interrupted his roaring after the "do not kill each other"-part to look quietly at the holo screen. That was new. Usually there should still follow the "It's about cooperation"-part of the speech and some empty phrases about teamwork. Ronus watched him, feeling slightly insecure and trying not to show it. With a glance at the holo screen the Commander's expression changed surprisingly fast from obviously angry to quietly boiling – even the vein seemed to pulsate less. After a pause, he continued talking, and the specific, calm and threatening tone of the next sentences pierced right through Ronus.

"Due to your special circumstances, you have already received countless attempts to gain a foothold in this organization, Ancoar. Consider this one your last attempt. You will form a unit with Cadet Surron and you will work together for the Concordia. I’m warning you: the next time you stand here in front of me, we'll go through a different scenario."

The Commander’s eyes fixated him, and his expression remained stern. He was serious. Ronus swallowed visibly and his breath quickened. His nausea mingled with a slight dizziness. And there was something else. At first, he thought it was still the unpleasant stare of the a'Shir right behind him. But in his current perception the Shadow was actually a very distant thought, while the feeling slowly grew stronger and pressed unpleasantly against his chest, as an addition to the surrounding chaos. It was fear.

Ronus was now struggling to maintain any form of composure. A cheeky retort was clearly out of the question. His gaze lingered on the floor, avoiding the Commander. He hated this. He hated the building, the people, the effervescing Sator, and the canteen food, which was currently working its way back up from his stomach. But the threat he'd just heard was worse than all that. Even worse than the dull walls in the hallway.

The Wosorgh went on to elaborate and clarify Ronus' last 'chance': "You will accept Cadet Surron as your partner and treat him with respect. You will introduce him to the life and work at the Concordia, train with him, help him and form a reliable team with him. You will work together and faithfully carry out your missions. This organization is based on collaboration, so finally prove to me that you aren’t completely out of place here, Ancoar."

Ronus looked up from the floor and was no longer really in control of his facial features. He sensed that he was giving away all his struggles in his expression, for the Commander's gaze cut right through his mind and it spoke volumes.

Finally, Sator turned back to the still stoically silent a'Shir. He had made no sound at all during the whole time and his expression seemed completely unchanged.

The Commander now spoke into the room, addressing them both.

"The both of you will work together from now on. That involves some adjustments: Your shared room has to be permanently darkened when Cadet Surron is present. You will be training together starting from tomorrow morning, the detailed plan will be arranged later today. You will"- and these words he said with strong emphasis and narrowed eyes in the direction of Ronus -"not provoke each other or treat each other disrespectfully. If you have further questions, contact lieutenant Elphom later. Dismissed!"

The Wosorgh then made a sweeping gesture with his paw, pointing at the door – both his tone and his aura didn’t allow any backtalk or objection. But Ronus didn’t want to open his mouth anyway, let alone phrase any answer. He turned around abruptly, walked with quick, slightly unsteady steps and a more or less straight face, right past the a'Shir and towards the door. He tried to hold back the overwhelming urge to vomit, at least until he reached the exit of the office.

He hated it all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

With a low whirr, the door closed behind the Cadet rushing out. The Commander was still standing tense in the middle of the room after his furious roaring and the slightly calmer last part of his speech. His words were fading away, but their meaning and consequence still seemed to hang in the stale air. The Wosorgh's face, however, relaxed noticeably as the human finally left his office. At least it seemed that way until his eyes fell on the a'Shir, who was still sitting quietly in the chair in front of him. His yellow eyes narrowed again and Aven knew that he should leave the office right now.

He got up in one fluid motion, put his mask back on, and took the small object from the desk in his hand. Before he turned to the door, he bowed his head slightly in the direction of the Commander and said, just as calm and determined as before the whole shouting: "Zmii shiron." That only seemed to irritate the Wosorgh even more, but Aven did not wait for his reactions anyway. Instead he immediately left the room and followed the clearly perceptible footsteps of his tottering, half-running partner. He had already disappeared down the hallway and around two corners, but was so unbelievably loud and clumsy that finding him instantly under the noises and movements of dozens of other Cadets was fairly easy. Aven floated quickly through the building, going after the source of the distinctive steps.

Finally, he found himself standing in a small restroom and the noisy human was obviously behind the only locked one of the three cabin doors. The choking and burbling sounds that he could hear confirmed what had been written all over the human’s pale face while being in the Commander's office: an incredible case of nausea. Aven leaned against the wall beside the front door and waited.

Throughout the conversation, the human had played along in the absurd dance of expression and voice, and was at least as transparent in this matter as the Commander himself. Already in his first glimpse of Aven the human had clearly shown curiosity, astonishment and irritation – despite the pretty obvious efforts to minimize his facial reactions. Perhaps there also was a hint of hope, but for the most part his face showed resignation and eventually a slight change to a bitter expression until he reached a ridiculously crumbling gloating grin. He had obviously tried to hide what he really felt.

Aven could not exactly tell what was bothering this human – after all, Earth's leading species, despite its penchant for extraordinary technical developments, was considered very emotional and irrational – but it definitely seemed to be a lot, with such a vivid confusion showing in his face. When the Commander had exploded in thunderous words, it had hardly bothered human at first. It certainly seemed like he was used to it, in fact the whole situation hinted countless repetitions of this specific scenario. The dancing charade in his face finally collapsed, as the Wosorgh calmed down and finally announced his 'last attempt'. Aven did not even had to look at the human’s face to see what was happening. His body had flinched, his arms and legs stiffened, his posture tensed, his breath went faster. Fear. And of course the nausea, which kept him still audibly busy in this sanitary facility.

Rag prince. Aven had heard so many terms, names, and insults over the years which various species had invented to describe the a'Shir. But such a peculiar title had not yet reached him. Humans had to have a strange kind of insult culture if they defamed one as a royal. Nonetheless, the unbridled disrespect and infantile defiance that this human exuded were unbearable qualities, especially for a warrior and, moreover, a 'partner' – not to mention that Aven preferred to work alone anyway. That aside, as far as he knew, he, the so-called 'rag prince', was the last chance for this strange, noisy Earthling.

The flush had already been used several times by now and the choking sounds had become quieter and less. Aven had been waiting for quite a while against the wall, when the cabin door finally opened, and the human slowly walked out. He dragged himself, seemingly without taking any notice of the a’Shir, to the sink on the other side of the small room and began to cleanse his face and hands under running water. His skin was pale for the usual hues of his species, which was probably due to his acute health situation. His dark blond hair stood in all directions across the head and looked disheveled. His body posture also corresponded to the expected overall picture of someone, who comes from a toilet cabin after emptying his stomach contents. He seemed to shiver a little, breathed heavily and looked tired. Aven studied the exhausted man's uniform more closely. His body was covered by a dark, close-fitting suit of dull material, with some light stripes along the torso and limbs, covering everything except the face and hands. He wore matching boots and an object on his chest, similar to the one he had been given by the Commander.

Suddenly, the human froze, and an abrupt tension went through all his muscles. Aven looked into the mirror right next to the place where the human had just washed his face and Ronus stared directly at him with wide eyes.

"What the hell ..?!" The human turned around angrily and almost immediately. His voice could not hide how startled he just had flinched. He glanced over his mask and his body. "Why are you sneaking up on me like that? What do you want here anyway? And fuck, how long have you even been standing there?!" A whole lot of angry and embarrassed accusations, disguised as questions, came out of his mouth. He obviously had not coped very well with the recent confrontation with the Commander.

"Zmii shiron, Cadet Ancoar. I've been waiting for you, so you can show me our room."

Aven spoke calmly and maintained the politeness, that he could not even find in traces in Ronus' indignant speech. His amber eyes were once again extremely easy to read. Stunned and confused that his angry, aimless thoughts and words did not produce a noticeable reaction, the human now simply looked at him. Aven's calmness, the mask's lack of expression, and the overall lack of a response full of anticipated aggression and disdain, had knocked him off balance. It clearly challenged him to regain his composure and retort something.

"Ugh. Okay. Come with me," he murmured strained and resigned at the same time. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the door and walked quickly in the direction of their room. Aven followed silently and quickly. Ronus did not stumble as he had before, but was still easily recognizable by his sound. His fast pace was purposeful, but also seemed a bit like an attempt of escaping the whole situation. Several times he noticed that the human turned around to him, looking irritated. It felt like he checked if he was still following him, only then to scowl and face forward again. Aven did not really react, although he wondered about the weird looks he got. As if it was difficult for him, a Shircon, to keep track of such a loud individual at what can only be called a truly moderate pace.

After a while, they came to a part of the building where countless doors lined up – the Cadet quarters. Ronus led him up a few floors, turned a few more times, and then stopped at a door at the end of a long corridor. He folded his arms across his chest, made a gesture towards the room with his head, and said in a half-annoyed, half-exhausted tone, "Here. Room K4024. Good luck organizing the rest of your shit. I'm out of here." With a sudden movement he turned around and before the a'Shir could reply anything, he already stomped away. The steps were, as expected, pretty loud and he could hear them resonating through the hallways for a while.

Aven let the bizarre human go and finally entered the room. It was not particularly large and had a window in the middle of it, opposite to the door, with a table and two chairs in front of it. To the left and right there were beds embedded in the wall. Next to each bed, closer to the door than to the window, was a closet in the wall. Behind the beds, two doors led into smaller sanitary rooms, a toilet and a bathroom, Aven noted.

So here he would stay for the time being. Basically, he could not complain, compared to the army quarters on Zel this room was fairly luxurious. But the slightly unpleasant part of the new home was connected to the left side of the room: The bed was in disorder, the closet door open and a lot of stuff was just laying around on the floor. It was obvious that Ronus lived on the left side. The displayed mess that existed here was to be expected by the attitude that the Cadet had shown so far.

With a low whirr, the door closed as he left the empty room behind to go and see Lieutenant Elphom.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"The view from hell is a blue sky. Who would have thought that ..." he muttered quietly to himself. He lay motionless on his back, his arms and legs stretched out and his eyes directed straight upwards.

In the sky only a few strands of fibrous clouds lingered around, already beautifully illuminated by the golden glow of evening light. A light breeze blew and made the trees rustle and whisper at some distance. The grass in which he lay gently swayed in the wind. Everything seemed natural, maybe even a bit cheesy. It was quiet. Peaceful. Normal. As it used to be. When he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine being far away from Lachanx, on Earth. Where the sky was blue, the forests green, the sea deep, the wind blew a caress through the air and the sun was shining down warmly on him. The sun rays tickled his skin and even made mild, flickering lights dance behind his closed eyelids. Even without seeing anything, it was clear: A beautiful summer day full of warmth and peace. You could hear rustling and crackling branches, whirring insects and chirping birds. A quiet and pleasant soundscape, which formed a gently vibrating tone of peaceful calm in the back of his head. An invigorating calm. A relaxing calm. A warm calm. Just the good kind of calm. This calm wasn’t a simple silence. You didn’t just find calm in the silence. Calm needed more than that. Calm needed something like a warm summer's day, a blue sky and peaceful thoughts to fully unfold. Calm needed more than silence. Calm was not soundless silence. Silence caused the damned opposite of calm. It caused restlessness. Tension. Stress. And Ronus was stressed out enough even without soundlessness.

He gritted his teeth. The a'Shir stressed him out tremendously. This guy was just creepy. He was completely silent. Like soundless-silent. Definitely the bad kind of silent. He moved as if he was floating. Damn it, floating – he only had two legs, like most other people. But he even was silent when he didn’t move. When he just sat there and did not make a single sound, while the commander was exploding and tearing him apart. When he leaned invisibly and inaudibly against a wall, while Ronus washed away the disgust of vomiting. He was silent and hard to perceive. Except when he opened his mouth. He had only once addressed Ronus directly. And even then, while talking, he had been silent in a way. His voice was just … so empty. Eerily empty. Completely quiet. The bad kind of quiet. Unreadable. Ronus was used to people confronting him with all sorts of undertones, comments, and facial expressions in conversations – especially when, for example, he obviously had been puking on the toilet for quite a while. But an unreadable voice that came from behind a mask and almost swept him away with its lack of expression – that was truly unfamiliar. And creepy. As were the eyes of this guy. Actually, it was kind of good that he had the mask on most of the time. The staring, deep, black eyes together with the expressionless voice would be even worse. Like the absolute summit of silent eeriness. Ronus shuddered almost imperceptibly. And he should manage to live with this guy. With this shadow. Fight together. Form a team.

He let out a sigh that sounded much more desperate than he had intended. Not that anyone could really hear it out here, but still. His last chance to fix everything was this weird, creepy guy in his hood and his ridiculous three white coats. This ... rag prince. He practically had already messed it up in the very first moment. How should he possibly get along with a silent shadow warrior, whom he had insulted instead of welcomed? The a'Shir was probably not a big fan of him anyway, after how he had behaved in front of the commander. He obviously was quiet, obedient and had a huge stick up his ass. A square drag of a soldier, assimilated and thoughtless, probably even more vapid than anyone else in this fucking base. In short, nothing more than a laughable cliché. Ronus' brows furrowed and the corners of his mouth tilted down contemptuously. The facial movement was involuntary, but unnecessarily exhausting. He half-heartedly forced himself to relax again.

Basically, all these little things didn’t matter anyway and so it was pointless to worry about it. They wouldn’t tolerate each other. Not even endure each other. He wouldn’t stand Aven. Aven wouldn’t stand him. Soon he would be gone anyway, like everyone else before. He wouldn’t be able to make it work. He wasn’t even able to make himself work properly. He wasn’t even getting close. For months, for years he'd been trying his best to pretend he was getting better. Pretending it would become easier and better over time. As if things would get better here. Better. Nothing was really better.

The usual, well-known bitter thoughts crept out of their niches. Slowly and hesitantly at first, but then more quickly and incessantly wreathing, they drilled through his mind without him being able to do anything against it. They hollowed out everything until there was nothing left of conscious thinking but a holey, murky trickle of thoughts. They paved the way for what followed always and inevitably after: Broken, hazy memories. A diffuse pain in his temples and neck. Gloomy pictures of the past. An air-quenching fear that contracted his guts and quickened his breathing.

Ronus slowly opened his eyes and looked up into the blue sky, like in a trance. Expectant and paralyzed. He was panting and his fingernails dug into the ground. The warm summer day on earth was so far away. His head was silent. The calm had given way to silence. And in the silence, they thrived excellently. His helpless stare was caught in the ominously blue sky. As the nightmares and illusions took over, all the blue was gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Aven conscientiously stowed the equipment he had received from Lieutenant Elphom in his area of the room. Bedding, sanitary products, utensils to service and repair the most common weapons, a small holographic device that apparently served entertainment and leisure purposes, the small module that contained the Concordia armour, a personal interlog that enabled communication and data transfer for each cadet and various other things, that all found a place. He put the armour and the Interlog on the shelf at the head of his bed for later, closer inspection. Lieutenant Elphom had explained some things regarding those items to him, and he was, well, not exactly curious, but at least somewhat interested in how these two hi-tech devices would work. He hoped that there would be no interference with his abilities and fighting methods.

In addition to the equipment, he also got a tour around the area, so that he had a first overview of the base Lachanx. He had already visited the training halls, the outdoor area, the canteen and a few other places. Lieutenant Elphom, unlike Commander Sator, seemed to have no reservations about him. And if she did, the Byrep hid them very well, by asking all sorts of things with a polite tone and an interested expression and in return she also talked and explained a lot. Aven's emotionless way of speaking did not really bother her, instead she seemed rather pleased about the high information content of each statement. She appeared unbiased and dutiful - after the arduous encounter with the effervescent, irritable commander and his utterly unbalanced partner, this was a welcome change.

From his own bag, which he had also picked up from Lieutenant Elphom, he then took his personal belongings. The important things went in the closet compartments at eye level: his civilian clothes, his personal notes, the grindstone for his blades from the mine in Sqala ach Zel, the transformer crystal of the hierophants and other useful remnants of his training and time at the Zelchail. The even more important things went into the back of the closet, so he would not have to look at them. So that he could keep and forget about them. So that he did not have to remember why these items were even here. He buried them as far back in the closet as possible, under a second set of sheets.

The soft whirring announced him as the calm before the storm preceded the devastation. Aven's body tensed at the sound of this unexpected noise. He had not actively taken notice of his pounding steps, thinking of the even more important things – such a mistake was not allowed to happen to him again. Under respective circumstances, such carelessness could be fatal. He turned abruptly to the door. Ronus came in the very next moment, his footsteps quick and loaded. There was clearly some aggression and anger in them. When he noticed Aven beside him, he seemed to freeze for a moment. The amber eyes of the human seemed rushed, tired and annoyed. They focused on him and widened noticeably. Only a blink later, when the door closed behind him, the slight shock turned into anger again. He turned away, went to his bed and grumbled some incomprehensible words to himself. Aven bowed his head.

"Zmii shiron, Cadet Ancoar."

He saw the human flinching. Without even looking at him, he answered in exasperation, "Yeah, yeah. Hello or whatever. Call me Ronus and don’t stare at me with your fucking mask."

He was almost tempted to smirk at this absurd conversation. This human was kind of rebellious, regarding the fact, that for him everything was hanging by the thread of Aven's patience concerning their 'partnership'. "I'll accept your rude language given the circumstances and for now comply with your implied request, Ronus."

The human stopped whatever he just wanted to do and looked over his shoulder with a questioning face. As if he was offended that he answered him so politely. Aven had already darkened the windows upon his own arrival in the room and had activated the artificial light on the ceiling, and therefore immediately took off his mask. In most cultures it was important to have unimpeded visual contact in a conversation, and despite all adversity Aven wanted to at least try to build a respectful connection with his partner. He looked directly at him. Ronus seemed for a moment as if the sight was rather uncomfortable to him – as it was before, when he had not withstood his gaze. Such behaviour was nothing new to the a'Shir, as many others responded to his facial characteristics in a similar way. But this time, the human persisted and stared bluntly into his face. The unpleasant expression had given way to curiosity.

"Your eyes are kind of weird."

Then Ronus turned his head around again, took off his armour module with a single move and threw it on the bed, which immediately let the whole suit and boots disappear and left him standing there in his underpants. With the other hand he pulled a piece of clothing out of the closet, then he disappeared into the bathroom without another word.

Aven blinked slightly irritated. That was all? No further statement? No offense? No loathing? No fear? He might have rashly judged the human. Apparently, the stressful situation in the commander's office had not necessarily brought out Ronus at his best. Well, on the other hand, ‘best' was also a rather strong term for his behaviour right now. Rather he was showing his ‘less rude, but still not very respectful' side right now. From the bathroom Aven could now hear splashing and burbling noises.

Maybe they could actually get along, if his other skills were not completely useless, Aven then concluded the thought. He sat down on his bed and turned to his technical equipment.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The warm water rinsed away everything for a while. The pain in his limbs, the unpleasant pulling in his head, the bad thoughts, the awful pictures, all the scars on his skin and his soul. The warm water also washed away the summer day. It created a numb calm. It made a few minutes of zoning out possible.

Ronus just sat on the tiled floor of the shower, his eyes closed, his upper body leaned against the wall, feeling powerless. He let himself be sprinkled by the water and waited for nothing. The steady sound of countless water drops filled the room and even his mind for a few minutes.

He sighed as the numbness under the warm water gradually subsided and the thoughts started coming back. He still sat limp on the floor and let them approach him. The first thought that came to mind was about the evening, him lying in the meadow. He pushed it aside. Then the thought of the afternoon came back, the commander's office, the pressure, the last chance. He pushed it aside. Then an unexpected thought showed up. The thought about the encounter just now. The thought about the rag prince outside the door. He had just heard something strange, right? Ronus wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but at least he had a vague guess. A small suspicion. He went over the situation again. He had somewhat snapped at him and Aven had answered. "I'll accept your rude language given the circumstances and for now comply with your implied request, Ronus," he had said pompously as ever. And for the first time his voice had not been creepy or empty. There was something else in that sentence. Hard to hear, but still hidden there. A ... smirk? And when he had looked at him and expected his absolute blank stare behind the mask, there had simply been a pale face, framed by longer, dark hair and two black eyes. Not the expressionless black holes from before, but two actual eyes, which looked at him somehow expectantly. In the confusion and heat of the moment he couldn’t think of anything else to say about the whole situation than ‘weird’.

AHA! Ronus’ eyes narrowed, and a malicious grin crept over his face. That deceiving fucker, he thought as he got up and reached for his shampoo. Under the hood, cape and mask, there was no such thing as an unreadable, silent super shadow warrior. Well, silent may still be accurate. Shadow warrior most likely too. But not as piercingly unpleasantly silent and unreadable as feared at first. More like a real person. A little more human, as much as you could say that for an shadow-alien with white skin and black eyes. He could work with that. At least a little. It was a start! Ronus continued to grin, working the foam through his hair. For the moment he triumphed thanks to this realization. For the moment he forgot what he originally was trying to wash off him. For the moment he had a good feeling in his guts. Maybe there was still hope for this last chance at the Concordia.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Ronus joyfully came out of the bathroom and all he wanted to do was crawling into his bed, he instead froze immediately. The a'Shir, still wearing no mask and, to his astonishment, also hoodless and without coats, was practising gymnastics in the much too confined space of their room, and he additionally was suddenly waggling around two swords. The blades were straight-lined, made of a dark metal, unfussy and measured about an arm’s length each. Well, to be honest, it didn’t look exactly like gymnastics or waggling, but more like a lightning-fast gliding and spinning and a very elegant cutting and chopping. Aven quickly noticed him, paused instantly and lowered his swords to let him pass. Ronus stared suspiciously at the two blades. Where the hell did they even come from? He hadn’t recognised that the a'Shir was in fact armed. Did he wear them under his cloaks? Aven just looked at him, expressionless as ever. Ronus took a deep breath. Of course, the a'Shir didn’t respond to implicit questions to explain his behaviour, what did he even expect. Fine, then he had to ask: "What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing?"

"I'm checking out my new armour."

Ronus eyed him with a raised eyebrow. He in fact wore the Concordia armour with the module on his chest. It was surprising to see him without the, what he felt must be around seven thousand, layers of white fabric, which also meant that he didn’t know what armour he had worn underneath them or what his body even looked like. Ronus now figured that he was about the same size as him and had a slim but muscular build, that actually seemed quite human after all. There was a belt on his hip, and behind his back there obviously were the sheaths of his two swords. So far, so good.

Ronus then just snorted an ‘aha’ as he passed, and slumped into his bed with a comforting sigh. The Shadow started moving again, cutting the air in the room another countless times.

Ronus closed his eyes for a while. The feeling of not being alone in the room was both exciting and sobering. He actually enjoyed his freedom in this overcrowded place, where people were stacked in every corner. But on the other hand, he had the problem that no one could stand being with him and he therefore had been more alone than he wanted to. The bitter aftertaste, that actually occurred with every 'new' partner, already ensued. He had to share the room and get involved with someone who didn’t like him anyway and would most likely disappear from his room and his life in a few weeks from now. Ronus pursed his lips and grimaced in frustration.

A breeze brushed his face. Ronus listened. He barely noticed him, even amid these sweeping parades, strides, and twists. If there had not been a brief breeze, his presence would be unrecognizable. Apparently, some of the stories about the a'Shir were true, at least the ones about their absurd cloths and their soundlessness. He opened his eyes again and looked to the other side of the room. The white, hooded conglomerate of cloaks hung on the cabinet. Besides the bed lay the mask and apparently his actual armour. Ronus snorted in amusement. It looked pretty much exactly like the Concordia amour. Just plain black, mostly unadorned and more like a fabric suit than a real 'armour'. The conversion was really not that big of a deal.

His gaze wandered once more to the whirling guy in the middle of the room. He watched his flowing movements and precise attacks and wondered about the bizarre elegance in this surely devastating art of fighting. And then his gaze fell on Aven’s chest. There was something that stood out. Something that looked like a black stone, roughly as big as a hand, but it was difficult to see anything more specific while he was in motion. Its surface seemed smooth, but had two large, cross-shaped scratches in it. There also seemed to be something missing on the sides, as if pieces had been knocked out of the oval crystal on left and right edges. The stone seemed to come straight out of the body of the a'Shir. Ronus vaguely remembered hearing of such a thing before. The stories said, that their hearts were made of stone. Could that be true? Wasn’t that just a metaphor for "those dudes are emotionless assholes"? Because he actually could pretty easily imagine that this metaphor was kind of true in relation to the a'Shir.

Aven cleared his throat. Ronus then looked up into his face, finally noticing that the a'Shir had been standing still for obviously quite some time now, looking at him. His calm and empty voice resounded.

"If you have a question, ask it, Ronus."

He felt inevitably caught. "Um .. okay. What exactly is that .. err .. stone?"

"My soul." The answer came abruptly and empty.

"What?"

"My soul."

"Yes, I already heard you. I just mean ... WHAT? That’s a stone. Are you kidding me?" he asked incredulously.

"No," Aven remained unmoved.

"What no?! Are you actually listening? Souls are not just stones!" he prompted in protest. Ronus facepalmed. What even was up with this crazy conversation right now?

"That is true. My people carry their own ethereal essence in a crystal in the chest, and these crystals are not just stones."

Ronus wanted to say something else, something mocking, or something annoying. Something, anything, but his mouth stopped responding. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

Yes, okay, admittedly there were several unbelievable factors combined in this situation: He was on a galactic base of an intergalactic peace organization, on a planet incredibly far from Earth. Surrounded by aliens of all kinds. And spaceships, one of which was more spectacular than the other. And technology that exceeded his understanding so incredibly far that he couldn’t even think about it without getting dizzy. And in front of him stood a being who could obviously be completely soundless and also somehow carried his soul in a crystal in his chest.

But despite all that he didn’t quite believe his eyes, when Aven’s two swords danced in the air in front of him without his hands even moving. They whizzed through the air with the same elegance and precision as before, but now by themselves. Aven stood very still, with a neutral expression and seemed to have no trouble at all. Ronus tried to grasp what was happening. Was that magic? Telekinesis? Or did that stone really do this? He probably was looking pretty stupid right now, as he sat with his mouth openly gaping on his bed, his eyes wide in disbelief and over all generally in amazement.

Eventually, the blades abruptly ended their dance and disappeared into the sheaths on the belt of the a'Shir, which he then took off. He sat down on his bed and placed everything next to him on the counter. Ronus thought he recognized a vague expression of a feeling in his face for the fraction of a second. But it was too fleeting to somehow assess it. Aven looked at him again, with a blank expression, nodded slightly and spoke a soft "Zmii shiron", before he lay down and turned around. He then saw him take off his armour module and put it on the shelf before the white skin completely disappeared under the blanket. The conversation and the demonstration were apparently over.

Ronus then turned off the light and lay on his back for some time, simply staring at the ceiling. Had he insulted him in any way? Had he been staring too obviously with his mouth gaping open? Should he have said anything else? Or could it be that Aven himself was uncomfortable with showing this ability? What had that look on his face been? His thoughts circulated restlessly as his breathing became more regular and calmer and his eyelids grew heavier.

"What does that mean anyway?" Ronus asked after a while in the darkness. He didn’t really expect an answer anymore.

"May you walk in the shadows."

Aven didn’t sound insulted. He sounded as if the sentence meant something good. Or maybe that was caused by the fatigue. Walk in the shadows. Hm. Ronus tried to think about it, but it was as if this simple phrase had stalled his racing thought carousel. A strange, new kind of calm spread.

He fell asleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Don’t look, just keep your eyes peeled_

_Thoughtless, trapped in my minefield_

_Shotgun, never behind the wheel anymore_

_Danger, monsters of smoke and mirror_

_Slowly, can one so lost be found?_

 

 

 

Keep Your Eyes Peeled - Queens Of The Stone Age

 


	2. The Right Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aven and Ronus get to know each other a little better.

 

 

**Chapter 2 – The Right Ones**

 

 

Murmured words, panting breath, tense trembling, the rustle of cloth.

He woke up. For a moment he did not know where he was, the surroundings did not seem familiar and the stale smell was hard to pin down. The thoughts were a bit sluggish from sleep, but the body was already in full alert. He instinctively held his drawn blades in his hands, and his grip on them was firm. His eyes energetically searched the darkness and his gaze got caught at the source of the noises.

Aven got up out of bed nimbly, his swords still in his hands. Through the darkness of the room he could easily see where the sounds came from – and had the situation not been acutely menacing, he would probably have recognized the trivial fact, that this noisy human could not even be quiet in his sleep.

Ronus squirmed. His face seemed to be painfully distorted, his whole body was twitching as if he was caught in an electric current, and under his raging breath some incomprehensible word fragments escaped from time to time. His head pounded to the sides, as if he was forced to look at a horrible sight by an unseen force, which he wanted to avoid at all cost. His eyes were pinched, the corners of his mouth grotesquely twisted, and his teeth bared. In addition to the incomprehensible mumbling, growling sounds came from his throat. Aven let his eyes wander over the quivering human and tried to interpret these symptoms. He seemed to have a nightmare, which was not unusual for the more emotional species, but something about the situation made Aven stiffen. The grip on his blades did not ease.

A deep, throaty growl sounded and Ronus literally clawed his fingers into the bed. His torso, which was covered with scars, reared up, and every single muscle in his body seemed to be stretched to breaking point. Aven felt a strange presence, no more than the faint idea of a sudden change. He raised his two swords in front of him, aimed at Ronus. Something was wrong with him and he, as a Shircon, did not encounter such potential dangers unprepared. The growl became a scream. Ronus' nails came out of his fingers and pierced the mattress as claws. His eyes opened only a little bit and Aven froze. For a fraction of a second, there were no amber coloured human irises as usual, but red eyes faintly glowing in the dark.

As suddenly as all the tension had come over Ronus, it was gone again. Before the a'Shir could somehow react to the bizarre sight, the human collapsed. His body slid back into bed inertly, his breathing normalized again and his sweat covered face looked almost peaceful.

Aven, on the other hand, was still standing in the middle of the room, prepared to fight and only in his underpants, his two blades defensively in front of him – pointed against the now sleeping human. Just seconds later the whole incident seemed so surreal, that he briefly and seriously considered dismissing it all as a hallucination. It was just absurd and moreover anatomically quite impossible. But his senses were not fooled easily. He had had years of training to recognize dangerous situations as such and to respond accordingly. The unfamiliar noises were a threat, they had awakened him. The sight of the human was unusual, so he had taken a defensive stance. The change had been subtly announced, it had been no imagination.

 

From Ronus' bed then came a soft, gurgling snore, almost as if he was making fun of the situation. Aven sighed and finally let the concentrated tension flow out of his body. Torpid and apparently undisturbed, the human lay on his mattress, which still was graced by holes right underneath his resting hands. He breathed evenly and there was no longer any sign of nightmares. The situation really did not look very threatening anymore. Aven stowed his blades safely back beside the headboard of his bed and then sat on its edge for a while, watching his partner on the other side of the room.

For now he let him continue snoring, but in general it did not feel quite safe to sleep in the same room with a seemingly uncontrolled dreamer. Aven finally lay down again. He would eventually find out the next day what this exhausting guy had to hide.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Aven danced. He glided through the hall, whirling around all the obstacles in a graceful and elegant way. His white capes flew around like sails in a stormy breeze, which obviously didn’t disturb him in the slightest. Once again it looked like he was floating. Turn after turn, stroke after stroke – a precise, graceful dance of swirling blades and deadly cuts. And all the simulated foes fell to the floor in several pieces.

Ronus squinted angrily. How could this even be possible? If there was something like a time record for beating this level of the simulation, the whirling a’Shir down in the oversized training hall was most likely breaking it right now. The fact, that this guy had so many extraordinary abilities was unfair to begin with… Soundlessness, exaggerated speed and agility, absolute precision. And then this whole thing with the stone in his chest and the floating swords – if he was a wizard on top of all that, it would be a hair-raising injustice. Other people had to-

Lieutenant Elphom's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. She spoke loudly in the microphone beside him, which transmitted her message from the control room down into the hall.

"Congratulations, Cadet Surron! You have just broken the record for this level of combat training." Her voice sounded quite pleased and her lips showed a satisfied smile.

Ronus' face involuntarily contracted into a pouting grimace. Of course there was a damn record. And of course he broke it immediately. This damn super shadow warrior with his damn super powers. Ronus glared at him through the window of the control room as Aven sheathed his swords.

Elphom noted something on the holo screen with an elated expression, before she turned back to Aven and asked through the microphone, "Do you want to go to a higher level of training now? Maybe level five or six?" Aven's mask hid his expression, but his outstretched hand waved upward. "Even higher?" Aven nodded. The Byrep at the control panel tapped on the screen while she continued talking. "Cadet Surron, you know you can always use your interlog to answer, right?" Ronus saw him nod again and snorted, "He just doesn’t like to talk." Elphom gave him a knowing side glance. Apparently she already knew the behaviour of the a'Shir.    

"I've set level seven now. There will be several agile opponents who attack in different ways, defend themselves accordingly and have intelligent evasive maneuvers. Are you ready?" Down in the hall, the white mask with the dark patterns nodded again. Lieutenant Elphom started the program.

Ronus grumbled and rolled his eyes. Of course the super shadow warrior wanted to continue with the expert levels, after his record on the baby level. And, of course, that also went very smoothly. He saw Aven dancing graciously through the moving enemies again, who vainly beat and shot at him. His blades flashed here and there, but thanks to their absurd precision and power they seemed to encounter only little resistance. Where he had drawn his swath of destruction all foes fell to the ground motionless and in pieces, as before. A black and white whirlwind that swept deadly through the battle simulation. Obviously, Ronus would never admit that, especially not in front of the rag prince, but it was quite beautiful to see him dancing and chopping so gracefully. This almighty asshole.

Ronus and Lieutenant Elphom were busy testing and evaluating the abilities of the a'Shir since early morning. And so far he had not had any difficulties with anything, but instead completed every task in excellent times. And this fact alone already irritated Ronus, now that it was around noon. The first time he himself had gone through the various tests and training levels, it had been unfamiliar, tedious and exhausting. But Aven just dashed through as if it was a fucking kid's birthday. He was perfectly able to swim, dive, run, climb, see in the dark, dodge enemy fire effortlessly and anything else, what was expected of the Cadet warrior battalion. Just everything. That wasn’t fair at all. If his only weakness was light, the guy made a damn good deal, Ronus thought with a jealous pout. He cursed his optimism from last night when he actually briefly (and quite triumphantly) had thought, that he might be able to get along with him and maybe even figure him out at some point. But in this very moment, his opinion drifted back to "This guy has a huge stick up his ass and is also a showoff". Even though his graceful fighting style didn’t exactly support the stick theory.

"An incredible achievement!" Lieutenant Elphom said, as Aven had also completed this high level practice in an insane time. Ronus mentally aped her statement, but in fact he only uttered a soft and scornful "pff".

It bugged him that the shadow could do everything.  
It bugged him that the shadow could do everything right away.  
It bugged him that the shadow could do everything right away in record time.  
It bugged him immensely, that Aven was better than him.

Ironically, the guy who was his damned last chance, wasn’t a stupid wannabe like all the other candidates before, but an almighty super shadow warrior. Thank you very much, destiny. Surely Aven still thought that Ronus was nothing more than an incompetent human who had to vomit in stressful situations. He frowned angrily and fixated the a'Shir, who quietly sheathed his blades once more down in the hall, with his eyes - as if he could hear his reproachful thoughts through this gesture and feel ashamed, like he should be. Which he obviously was in fact not. Rude. He wouldn’t simply take this showing off and disdain and let it be, oh no.

"Lieutenant Elphom?" Ronus asked with an artificial smile. "Maybe I also should show my skills to Cadet Surron, don’t you think? After all, he should know what his partner" – Ronus spit out this word like it was poisonous - "is capable of." The Byrep looked at him, slightly surprised, and apparently tried to interpret his expression. Her mouth jerked down briefly and her almost imperceptible hesitation spoke volumes. But the idea seemedto make sense for her, because she then turned to the microphone and said to Aven: "Cadet Surron, come up to the control room. I think we've seen enough of your skills to give us an idea of your capability for the time being. Next, let's familiarize you with the fighting style of your partner, who will now complete the same level." Aven just nodded and moved toward the control room elevator.

A confident grin sneaked onto Ronus' face as he turned around to leave for the training hall.

He left the elevator below, as Aven waited in front of it to enter. "Nice little dance, prince. I'll show you now how adults fight" Ronus chuckled as he marched into the hall with great stride and a thrill of anticipation.

Aven turned and looked after him, he could clearly feel the eyes on his back.

"Where are your weapons?" his near-blank voice sounded with a tiny bit of astonishment.

Ronus turned around to face him and his confident, malicious grin shone all over his face, additionally fired by the trace element of emotion he evoked in the a’Shir’s voice. He then gestured with both hands at his feet, then up along his sides until he reached his head, before he threw his arms in the air triumphantly and laughed.

"I AM the weapon."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Aven entered the control room and Lieutenant Elphom congratulated him again on performing well in all the tests and his masterfully completed combat simulation training. He thanked her and after that she continued to provide some information on the individual results. Aven only listened half-heartedly, even though he knew it was rude not to pay full attention to a superior. He was slightly annoyed that the human’s disrespect seemed to rub off on him. His gaze was through the large windows fixated on Ronus down in the hall, while Elphom, unusually enthusiastic, still listed all possible best times and noteworthy records of recent years.

Ronus wasn’t carrying anything except his Concordia armor. No close-range or ranged weapon, no other helpful utensil, only the dark suit and boots, which he also wore himself under his coats. Were humans actually capable of something like combat magic? Or maybe a special martial art? How else could he hope to complete the seventh level of the simulation program with only his bare hands? His species was not exactly known for its superior physical abilities, and Aven seriously doubted that emotional instability and a good dose of exaggerated self-esteem, such as those of Ronus, were sufficient for such a battle. I AM the weapon, he had said. His eyes had sparkled ominously with malicious glee and his ugly smile had not been able to hide his envy. He had obviously been impressed by Aven's showcased abilities, otherwise he could have spared them all this facial circus.

He saw Ronus stretching out his limbs, as if he was seriously preparing for a physical fight. Then he turned his head up to the control room and showed Aven his widest grin, with a downright ridiculous wave of his hand. A quiet wheeze escaped the a'Shir, which immediately annoyed him a little. That his ridiculous provocations even had an effect – he really should pull together and recollect himself, because this was not the way of the Shircon. He closed his eyes for a moment. Discipline. Calm. Action.

Then he nodded, looking up and feeling composed again, in response to Lieutenant Elphom, who had just finished her remarks on the subject of records, best times, and abilities of warrior cadets. She then turned to Ronus, apparently content with Aven's minimal confirmation. "Cadet Ancoar, will soon begin the simulation at level seven."

His gaze returned to the training hall, where his partner still stretched with a playful lightness, as if this was not training, but a joke. Last night he had hoped for a moment, that Ronus was not exactly the thoughtless idiot whose behavior he showed all the time. But currently the human was trying again his best to convince him otherwise.

This human was unbearable.

In the next moment the simulation started and Ronus wasn’t human anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The heat inside him blazed up. His eyes were closed and he could feel the familiar electric whirring of the simulation in the air, which in a few seconds would turn the room into a battlefield. He focused on the throbbing in his temples, and clenched his hands into fists. Every muscle was tense and he slowly let the heat rise.

 

The summer day.

A fire on the horizon.

The summer day in the warm sunshine.

A burning on his back.

The summer day on soft grass.

A glow in his eyes.

The summer day under the blue sky.

The taste of blood.

 

With a huge leap Ronus found himself airborne. The heat pulsed pleasantly and powerfully in him as he rose quickly and the usual, driving force made his body thirsty for a fight. Right below the ceiling he opened his wings and eyes. His vision was sharp and precise, he could easily see the slightly flickering edges of the simulated opponents and each of their movements. Dozens of figures had their sights and weapons on him. He just grinned and pulled out his claws as far as possible.

With a nosedive and an abrupt, rapid turn right above the ground, he shredded the first few of the slowly moving ranged fighters, while he dodged the weapons and shots of the other figures with some fast twists. He turned around with some steady wing beats, then headed for the side of the hall at full speed. In a quick maneuver, he braked sharply, pressing his feet to the wall for a fraction of a second, and then pushed away powerfully, in the midst of three foes rushing at him. The first he impaled with his claws in the middle of his chest, the next one with his tail in his stomach and the third one with a tearing bite in his throat.

The triple impact had cost him his speed, but that didn’t diminish the bloodthirsty roar inside him in the slightest. He got up with a swift movement and stretched his shoulders, while he glanced around, looking for the next target. Several other simulated opponents stormed toward him, while others in the back fired their shots at him. He avoided them with another powerful beat of his wings and leaped into the air. Shooters before pleasure – his old saying. In a quick jump, he catapulted himself to the ranged fighters and shredded them easily with claws and teeth, before they even could evade properly. The head and torso of these cardboard-like things couldn’t stand up to his force, just like regular bones couldn’t. The limbs also could be torn apart easily when he smashed his tail or his horns through the joints fast enough. A wonderful firework of body parts. He let the simulated opponents fall to the ground in frayed pieces.

The remaining melee fighters approached him again in as a wild cluster, and this time Ronus simply turned to face them. Now, without annoying interference from further away, the fun really started. No more avoiding and flying away, but a beautiful, old-fashioned carnage. The heat in him was getting stronger, the power captivated him and he let himself drift away within it. His grin plastered all over his face on it’s own, as he raised his clawed hands and started his attack.

Fuck the record time, Ronus thought.

Fuck the shadow.

This was about the fun.                   

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Aven stood completely still and just watched. The red eyes and the claws, he could have guessed it. But such a hunch would have been unbelievably far-fetched. The whole sight was so bizarre that right now he could not even think properly about what the history of this might be. For now, he had to process the visual information, which was difficult enough.

The simulation had started at the same moment Ronus had changed his form. His eyes now glowed faintly reddish, the skin had turned red as well, his fingernails and toenails had formed into dark claws and his whole body had grown more muscular. Dark horns were protruding from his blond hair, there were spikes standing out of his Concordia suit on his arms, shoulders and legs, and on his back huge, thin-skinned wings and a long, spiked tail appeared out of nowhere. In this changed appearance he now swept through the spacious training hall and step by step dismantled all opponents in a furious way. He leaped into the air in a flash, making huge jumps right into the enemies and yes, indeed, his body was the weapon. His teeth, his claws, his horns, his tail. Always with full commitment and full force. And apparently always with some kind of enjoyment, which sent an icy shiver down Aven’s spine for the first time in ages. A huge, manic grin was enthroned in Ronus' face as he passed the control room window. He paid no attention to him, was completely submerged into his own world. In his eyes, a grotesque fire could be seen blazing, in that fleeting moment. As if a smouldering match had fallen into a boiling sea of oil. He saw him burning in it. Ronus was not of this world.     

This sight was disturbing. The mere existence of this sight was unsettling. Which in turn brought Aven back to his analysis. If he did not know better, he would have thought of this as a mixture of humans and Ez'Kazqesh in the stature of a Volun, because of the colouring and the body characteristics. But Aven knew in fact better and this assumption was completely impossible for several reasons. The legendary Ez'Kazqesh had not been seen for centuries and were commonly considered extinct. And even if they were to appear somewhere, it would be most unusual – if not impossible in the first place – that there was some kind of offspring between them and humans. Moreover, how a Volun should fit into the equation on top of all that, was totally absurd. And even if this completely odd option of natural crossbreeding were to apply, it still should be impossible for a hybrid species to change its shape like this. That would be on the verge of strong, ingrained magic – and magic was incredibly tedious, energy-consuming, hard to master and hard to control.

"Lieutenant Elphom, with all due respect, how is this even possible?" Aven did not manage to keep his voice in the usual calm tone. The incredulity in his words weighed too heavily.

"I understand your reaction, Surron. Believe me, I couldn’t comprehend it as I saw it for the first time. Cadet Ancoar is, well, special. In the past, certain circumstances have caused his human genome to be intermingled with other genes, before he finally ended up with the Concordia. Actually, I can’t tell you anything in detail, because of the protection of Kadett Ancoar's privacy." A clear, sad undertone was embedded in the information.

"I understand." Aven's gaze was still fixed on the raging, transformed human, and his thoughts kept moving relentlessly. Altered genes, then. Zel's hierophants also experimented in many directions, but he knew of no technology or method that would allow such a result.

It was barely audible, but Lieutenant Elphom sighed. Aven glanced at her and could see a regret in her eyes, that he would not have suspected there. It couldn’t be tied to Ronus' abilities, because he was obviously well-versed with the training program and fighting in general. His gaze fell back into the hall.

Perhaps she didn’t see just the tearing teeth and claws, the tremendous wings, the glowing eyes and the sheer destructive rage.

Maybe the Byrep also saw the distorted, manic smile on his face.

She probably knew the story behind it.        

 

 

* * *

 

 

The canteen food was once again inedible. He hated it here.

Ronus eyed his meal critically and poked around in it listlessly. On one side, in a thick, brownish sauce, were small sliced pieces of meat, but green and quite similar to tentacles. A delicious sight. As a side dish there was a reddish slime with ominous lumps in it and several fried vegetables, some of which still had thorns on it. Yummy. The dessert consisted of an unpleasantly furry-looking chunk of a hard, dark material. Also looking incredibly appetizing. He poked one of the greenish tentacle pieces with his fork. The consistency seemed solid and rubbery, and the thing wobbled as if it was still alive, prompting a horrified-disgusted look on his face. In addition to this he still had a throbbing headache and slight dizziness – today wasn’t really his day. First, the almighty showoff-shadow simply mastered every single task, and then, after an annoying morning – including a sweaty fighting sequence on top of all that – he also had to literally stomach this more than dubious heap of food.

Ronus once again seriously considered stopping his attempts at getting used to the local cuisine and switching back to the slimy, almost tasteless universal food. Regarding the flavour it was solidly unimpressive, consistency-wise it was a masterpiece of inconspicuousness and altogether just as boring as it was saturating. Over the last few years at some point he always had found his way back to the bland food slime, because apparently the human stomach was much more sensitive than the digestive tract of other species. Apart from the overwhelming nausea of having to visit Commander Sator's office again, there were a few other unpleasant memories involving the canteen food. Stomach cramps, diarrhea, inflammations, allergic reactions, poisoning and so on. In this remote base, he was the only representative of his kind and the option to select "food from planet Earth" in the personal settings, simply was not available in this galaxy. He sighed gloomily. Well, back to the universal food goo next time.

"Hey, Ancoar."

Ronus looked up. At the opposite side of the table two cadets with their trays full of food were just sitting down. A wiry, tall Stox with a wry smile now sat opposite him and a muscular Byrep with a long braid and stern gaze right next to him.

"Don’t you like the Lachanxian cuisine?" He asked with a mocking smile full of sharp, feline teeth.

"Eon and Narubia, what a pleasure. Where does the interest in my eating habits come from?", Ronus replied listlessly and looked at the tentacle piece on his fork, which still looked wriggling. He had known the shooter duo for quite some time, but had never exchanged more than a few sentences with them.

"The disgust in your face is obvious, human," Narubia said with flawless factual accuracy. Ronus only rolled his eyes. This woman was so incredibly humourless. Eon chuckled anyways, his fluffy ears jerking up and down. Always a strange sight, these furry Stox.

"We heard you have a new partner," Eon finally said, picking up a large spoonful of the red lump slime.

"Oh yes? You heard that?"

"Yeah, word gets around." Eon just grinned silly and took another spoon.

"Well, it isn’t exactly something new, is it?" Ronus said boredly. He had already been paired up with new partners countless times, and so far Eon had never been particularly interested. The tentacle fragment on his fork seemed somehow familiar to him after the prolonged observation. He felt quite sure he had seen a creature somewhere that had had such limbs.

"But the new guy, just like you, seems to be special. An a'Shir, they say. Seems like they put together the right ones" he giggled and Ronus looked up. In Eon's yellow, catlike eyes, curiosity sparkled.

"Yeah, wow. Incredible. A light-shy shadow guy. Unbelievable." His voice dripped with sarcasm and weariness. As if the whole morning as involuntary witness of the heroic deeds of this very shadow hadn’t been enough, no. Now people even came to hear all about it. Listen, listen, once upon a time this morning, a man called Aven slayed every simulation in record time. Ugh.

"He’s not just any shadow. He’s a shircon," Narubia stated dryly, staring sternly at Ronus.

"So what? What's the difference?" He really didn’t want to talk or even think about this guy anymore. He lowered his fork with the green tentacle back onto the tray. The hunger had vanished completely by now.

"There’s actually a huge difference," said Eon, who also had impaled a tentacle piece on his fork and whirled it around wildly while speaking. "There's never been a shircon who joined the Concordia before, as far as I know. Or any organization! These people are the absolute elite in the army of the a'Shir, something like a secret weapon. Overpowered warriors! Super assassins! Ma-" Before Eon could continue talking in ecstatic rage, Narubia forcefully stuffed his fork with the tentacle piece into his mouth, which he acknowledged with a dramatically offended look.

"The Shircon usually don’t leave the Zelchail all their life," she stated calmly. "And if they do, their lives aren’t very long after that. The army of the a'Shir isn’t interested in seeing other forces holding their strongest warriors." Her gaze was fixed on Ronus, who visibly swallowed. "And your new partner is such a shircon."

A secret weapon, then? At least that would explain his outstanding skills. But why had he left the army? Did he have some skeletons in his closet? And did Narubia’s statement right now indicate, that the other a'Shir were after him? He forced himself to put these thoughts aside – he already had been wasting all day with being annoyed by this guy.

"Aha." Ronus tried as hard as he could to sound unimpressed. "And what now? What does this knowledge change?"

"Oh, come on Ancoar, tell us something!", Eon promptly whined. "You were on the run all morning with Elphom and he's been through all the tests – people have seen you in the hallways. Did you see what he’s capable of? Was it as epic as the Shircon in the stories? Did he do something cool?" The Stox sounded enthusiastic and his eyes lit up.

As if they were making fun of him, they now seriously wanted a report on the magnificence of the rag prince. Ronus scowled and his eyes narrowed. His gaze wandered back and forth between Eon and Narubia. Even the Byrep, instead of her usual stern expression, seemed curious and looked at him expectantly.

In the corner of his eye, Ronus registered something fluttering and white coming towards him.

He just sighed in exasperation and said, "Why don’t you just ask him yourself?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Even through the canteen's cacophony of a hundred voices, Ronus' distinctive tone was easily heard through the whole spacious room. Not necessarily his exact words, but definitely his annoyed tone. This human, or 'human hybrid' Aven corrected himself in thought, should really work on his cover. Such an easy target, like his voice seemed to be, could mean a serious threat – even for his partner.

The a'Shir stood at the food dispenser and looked around the dining hall. Some eyes were fixed on him, accompanied by whispered words and some fingers blatantly pointing at him. That was to be expected, but nevertheless accompanied by unpleasant and unwanted attention. His eyes finally followed his ears to the source of the most annoying sound in the babble of voices. Ronus was sitting at one of the tables at the other side of the canteen, obviously involved in a conversation with other cadets. His face, as far as he could tell at this distance, was once again turned into an emotional grimace and showed all shades of aversion at this very moment. Fascinating, how quickly his moods changed. Immediately after his obscure performance in the training hall, his manic grin had barely left his transformed face, his pointed fangs mockingly bared – but obviously his human mind had now already caught up with him.

Opposite of him sat a tall Stox of auburn fur and hair, gesturing wildly with a green piece of meat on a fork during an enthusiastic speech, and next to him was a stern-eyed Byrep who had two arms crossed over her chest and the other two now efficiently stuffed the fork into the Stox’ mouth, apparently to stop him from speaking. Understandable approach.

He took a portion of the mushy, wholesome universal food and a drink on his tray and made his way to his partner. Eating alone did not bother him, but there were still some things he had to discuss with this secretive guy. Out of consideration for the seemingly already difficult circumstances he had not told Lieutenant Elphom anything about the nocturnal incident. But he would, however, change a few words with Ronus, especially after the previous demonstration of his skills. It was completely out of question to just stay silent about it, while apparently there was a considerable risk of being torn to pieces in sleep or also the possibility of killing Ronus during the defence.

While there was still some distance between him and the table, he already picked up first bits of the conversation.

"And what now? What does this knowledge change?" Ronus sounded excited and angry, but once again tried to conceal his overflowing emotions as well as possible.

"Come on, Ancoar, tell us something!" The reddish brown Stox lamented. "You were on the run all morning with Elphom and he's been through all the tests – people have seen you in the hallways. Did you see what he’s capable of? Was it as epic as the Shircon in the stories? Did he do something cool?" Aven's body stiffened significantly. Expectant looks, joyous pitch, veritable enthusiasm. These people did not have the slightest clue what it meant to be a Shircon. Ronus did not answer yet, but only shot sore glances at the Stox and the Byrep. Good, moody human, keep silent. He quickened his pace.

Ronus' head jerked briefly in his direction and his eyes brushed his mask and his gaze for a moment. A resigned gasp sounded: "Why don’t you just ask him yourself?"

Aven put his tray down beside Ronus and looked at the frozen faces of the other two cadets. He bowed his head and greeted them.

"Zmii shiron, cadets."

The two did not react at first, but the Byrep quickly managed to regain her composure. She got up immediately, clenching her two right fists and lifting them to her chest. "Greetings, Cadet!", she snapped in the usual military manner of the Byrep. Her tone was more severe than that of Lieutenant Elphom, but she had a very similar accent. After her salutation, the Stox also seemed to have awaken from his stupor and greeted him with a nervous "Hey".

Aven then sat down next to Ronus, who pointedly leaned away from him as far as possible with an annoyed gasp. He generously ignored the rude gesture.

"Zmii shiron, Ronus. You left pretty quickly after training. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Welcome to the Canteen of Horror, Prince." He did not exactly sound enthusiastic. Neither in relation to the canteen, nor in relation to him. But then the human’s eyes fell on Avens tray and a malicious smile spread on his face. "Universal slime as the first choice? Seriously?" There was mockery, pity, and a peculiar joy in his voice. "The universal food is wholesome and free of irritating ingredients. I'm not familiar with the food of this galaxy." Ronus’ face sank again and he rolled his eyes.

"You don’t eat anything yourself, Ancoar. You’re just staring stupidly at your food," the Stox from the other side of the table added with a mischievous grin. "Oh, shut up, Eon!" Ronus said sharply.

Aven turned his gaze back to the two cadets and fixed his eyes on the Stox. "I've taken from the conversation that you have questions for me, Cadet?" He seemed somewhat caught and the mischievous expression immediately left his face. He knew this reaction all too well. Their reputation preceded the a'Shir, and the stories about the Shircon, the Stox mentioned earlier, also did not help with their image. The mask in addition seemed to irritate others and interfered with the communication, but here in the canteen he could not remove it anyway. At any rate, the Stox made no move to say anything, but only looked at him with widened eyes. Finally, the Byrep spoke after several seconds of silence.

"Cadet, I apologize for my partner Eon. He is a bit impetuous and rhetorically clumsy. My name is Narubia, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance. We just wanted to ask how today's practice went, as we heard it was in fact your first day here" she said politely and without hesitation. Aven clearly saw the parallels between Eon and his own partner.

"The pleasure is mine, Narubia. You can call me Aven. The training was satisfactory. Where does the interest come from?"

Ronus let out a sharp breath, raised his hands in reproach, and gave him an unbelieving look with his mouth open. A side glance was enough for Aven and he had seen through his uncomprehending expression. Ronus seemed to find it absurd how easy it was to have a conversation with him. Aven had to resist shaking his head. If the human did not make everything complicated and maybe would stop behaving so dense, they would have been able to interact like normal persons already.

The Byrep obviously felt caught red-handed, but continued unabashedly: "Well, there are several reasons. For one thing, Ronus already had countless, let’s say, rather unfortunate partner candidates, all of whom were not really on a par with him.' - Ronus let out an annoyed wheeze - "On the other hand, it’s very unusual to see an a'Shir in our ranks. Especially if it also" – she hesitated briefly at this point - "is a Shircon." She had respectfully lowered her eyes, as if she knew that this confrontation was a daring topic.

Aven stayed silent. Narubia paused for a moment and then looked up. She searched the mask for a brief moment, but quickly realized that she had in fact entered a topic, where no further words were found. A slight desperation flared in her eyes, as suddenly Eon threw himself into the breach with a nervous smile and bluntly interjected: "Oh, and, uh, we may have ... heard that we’ll soon serve together in one unit, if everything goes smoothly."

"EON!" Narubia snapped, her eyes wide.

"WHAT?!" Ronus yelled angrily.

Aven just looked back and forth between the three others. These were news, that apparently no one should know at this moment, because the Byrep had stood up immediately and already had half of her arms in use to cover Eons mouth, who fiercely refused to actually be shut up.

"Where did you get this info from? What the actual fuck?", Ronus snapped indignantly and jumped up, while gesticulating wildly. "Calm down, Ancoar! Nobody should know yet. Keromi has hinted it, but it isn’t anything official," she hissed, trying to keep the situation unobtrusive. "Keromi? You mean Sator’s nephew Keromi? Are you serious?" Ronus could barely contain the anger in his voice.

The emotions of all those involved had boiled over to such an extent, that it was hard to believe it was all due to just a few words. Aven was tired of this uncalled-for drama.

"Until I get the official orders, I'll keep silent about you revealing unconfirmed, secret organizational plans as an exception. However, I must point out, that it is neither wise nor allowed to peddle secret information, Eon."

The other three had fallen silent, when he started speaking. They just looked at him perplexed for a few moments. Ronus was the first to regain his sulky expression. He sat down and offendedly muttered something. Next Narubia let go of her partner, turned to Aven and apologized silently, before she sat down again. Eon was panting heavily and his fur was still ruffled, but he also looked at the a'Shir ruefully and only said, with a faint smile, "Oopsi."

Oopsi? With his moody, unstable hybrid species partner, he was basically challenged enough already, but if he had to endure even more of these hysterical comedians in his immediate vicinity, his patience might not last very long.

There has never been room for such things in the Zelchail, because the a'Shir were not made for this type of interaction: Countless individuals of all kinds and personalities gathered under the umbrella of the Concordia to pursue the same goals in different ways. Here everyone seemed fiery, loud and slightly irrational. His people on the other hand were different, they valued other qualities. Order, quiet discipline and an absolute sense of duty were appreciated far more than emotional excesses and irrational outbreaks. And loyalty was far more important than the own conscience.

The a'Shir were cold, quiet, efficient and deadly – and they did not care about their fellows and enemies alike.

And that was the exact reason he left.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Aven sat on his bed and waited. The room was darkened and he leaned against the wall, without his mask or weapons and for a change he sat there in his civilian clothes. He seldom wore the simple white shirt and comfortable black trousers, though the typical loose, wide fabric of Zel felt familiar and comfortable on his skin. The clothing brought up an almost strange touch of nostalgia and melancholy in him, which on the one hand made him calm, but on the other quite irritated. From the bathroom he heard the constant sound of the shower and occasionally a few sounds from Ronus.

Aven had spent all day thinking about the words he could use to address the topic, without tempting the unstable human to completely overreact. Without the implicit provocation of his armour, weapons and mask, so he hoped, a more honest conversation would be possible. The a'Shir was not used to paying attention to such banalities, because in his career so far, it has never been inadequate to simply tell the truth, even though others might not interpret it the same way as he does. Conflict avoidance was not necessarily his specialty, but unfortunately urgently needed regarding his impulsive partner. Because after all, this issue could not be simply left unvoiced, especially if a nightmare eventually led to Ronus becoming a danger in his sleep.

If he also considered all previous absurdities, he felt more and more like he had been assigned the most difficult character of the whole Concordia as a partner. Maybe because of Sator's mischievous glee and his plan to annoy him and Ronus at the same time. But despite the circumstances Aven still wanted to take this whole attempt of a partnership seriously, and that also included having all these cumbersome thoughts and try to conduct a rational conversation with an unreasonable human.

From the bathroom, the familiar noise was meanwhile no longer heard, but Ronus was apparently still busy.

After a rather quiet lunch, due to Eons clumsy revelation of possible future developments (even though the a'Shir still was not sure what the problem seemed to be), Avens introduction with Ronus and Lieutenant Elphom had continued in the afternoon. He had been given full tour around the Lachanx base and some surrounding terrain, which was partly used as a training ground. They had also visited the various ship hangars, the laboratories, and other facilities, and Lieutenant Elphom had throughout provided information and behavioural guidelines in her usual jolly-dutiful manner. They also discussed things like a vague plan for the next weeks, training schedules, daily routines and other necessities. But his partner had been suspiciously silent all along, and a pensive expression had spread on his face as he was seemingly lost in thought. No stupid comments, no disrespectful banter, but only a silent Ronus, who followed them around unobtrusively. Aven was not sure if he really found this brooding façade more pleasant than his unbearable 'normal' behaviour.

With a quiet whir, the bathroom door opened and Ronus strolled through the room in his underpants and with damp hair. He let himself fall into his bed with relish and grabbed his little holo device from the shelf at the head of the bed.

"Ronus," Aven interrupted, before he could even activate it. The human gave him a questioning look and lowered the holo device in his hands.

"What?", he asked without his usual facial dance, which almost stopped Aven in his conversation plans. Maybe he could still enjoy the rest of this calm before he had to endure another waterfall of his sensations. But he had never been a big procrastinator when it came to something important. So, careful words, now:

"Your performance in the training hall this morning was impressive."

Instantly, Ronus’ expression darkened into a pouting face, it was almost ridiculous. He had really hoped that a praise would not insult him immediately. But of course, he had not reckoned with his capricious mind.

"Are you seriously dissing me again right now? You know what: I don’t care, you asshole. Take your fucking records and go to sleep," the human growled, averting is gaze. Oh. Aven should have thought about that. Of course Ronus would compare himself to him. Why did the human have to make the interaction so difficult for him?

"I had no intention of insulting you, Ronus. Please excuse my careless words. My intention was actually, to ask you about your special abilities." Aven in fact went to great lengths to choose his words carefully, so that the irritated human would not again only glare at him and refuse the conversation altogether.

The amber look he got was still offended. But there was also a dark, abysmal look in his eyes that Aven could not possibly assess. Ronus' voice sounded as if it came from a place far away, as he spoke again. "I don’t wanna talk about it."

"I understand, but I have to talk about it," he said firmly. "You apparently had a nightmare last night, your sounds woke me up. I could not really classify it until your performance today, but now I know what it means when your eyes turn red and your nails turn into claws." Ronus froze, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. But he said nothing.

"I have not told Lieutenant Elphom about it, but I need to know what this is all about and in what situation we are in here. If you are in danger of attacking me half-asleep, I'll have to tell you this right away: Only one of us will survive such an attempt." Aven spoke in a quiet voice, secretly hoping that Ronus would not immediately take it as an accusation and freak out.

But the human still stared at him completely stunned and did not say a word. He had expected anything: annoyed wheezing, wild shouting, obscene insults, a stupid remark, at least anything Ronus-typical. But not silence.

"Ronus?" He asked cautiously after a few moments of silence.

The human’s gaze no longer rested on his face, but was empty and lost somewhere in an indeterminate point in the room. His mouth was closed again, his face downright stunned. His breathing became faster, his head tilted slightly back and forth, his shoulders trembled, and his arms and legs seemed tense. Then he noticed tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Oh no. Where did that come from so suddenly? He had not wanted that. He was not prepared for that. Problems that could not be solved with blades or words went far beyond Aven's horizon. Problems that brought tears with them, even went much, much further.

"Shit," A stifled and broken whisper came out of Ronus’ lips, before he suddenly jumped up and stormed into the bathroom.

Aven was completely perplexed for a moment. Was the human really storming into the bathroom, crying? What had he hit him so hard with? He had just tried to explain the facts. He had not expected such a spontaneous and severe emotional reaction.

Aven finally got up and followed him to the bathroom door. Ronus had not closed it behind him and the a’Shir hesitated. He knocked on the wall and asked, "Ronus? Is everything ok? Can I help you somehow?" There was no answer, only a rustle and clinking could be heard. He did not trust the silence and went into the bathroom.

Ronus seemed to search the small cabinet under the sink with a panicked expression. His breath went alarmingly fast and he was shaking all over his body. Aven carefully touched his shoulder, unable to grasp the situation and yet trying to help somehow – he felt like this strange behaviour was a response to his statements and that left him guilty to some extent. But the human only jumped at his touch and crept away in panic and whimpering, into the corner of the room, where he crouched and stared at him, startled. His eyes were wide in unbelievable fear, he was clearly hyperventilating, sobbing uncontrollably and tears were running down his entire face.

"Ronus, what can I do?" Aven was startled a little, as his voice came out of his mouth crumbling, faint and fickle. He was supposed to be strong, especially when others were not. But in this very moment he was simply overwhelmed. He had never seen anything like this before.

"Pills. Violet. Round." Ronus gasped between tears and panicked breathing. Aven turned to the closet the human had just searched. After a brief glance at the things inside, he picked out a violet pack of pills from a terrifyingly big amount of different medicines and showed it to him. Ronus nodded and grabbed a pill, trembling. Aven silently handed him a glass of water and secretly did not feel as useless and guilty as before.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They stayed on the bathroom floor for a quite some time. Nobody said anything as countless minutes passed, maybe even hours. Aven sat next to the sink with crossed legs, leaning against the little closet. Ronus was still huddled in the corner, but he gradually calmed down. His breathing slowly returned to normal, the tears stopped flowing and the panic disappeared from his crying eyes. All that remained was a sad, empty tiredness. The expression did not suit Ronus. The silence did not suit Ronus.

Aven took a deep breath and struggled for the right words to finally break the silence. He spoke softly and carefully: "I'm sorry, Ronus. I should not have started with this topic. I did not want this to happen ... I did not know that-"

"It's not your fault," Ronus mumbled quietly, choking off the conversation again. His head was turned to one side, his eyes dull and indefinitely directed to the floor. He had his arms wrapped around his knees and formed a sad, quiet human heap. On his skin Aven could see countless scars: large, small, long, misshapen, puncture wounds, gunshot wounds, in the form of claw or tooth marks. His arms and legs, his torso, his shoulders, his neck, his ears, he was completely covered with scars. It was a bitter sight.

Aven had scarcely acquired any significant physical scars during his years of training and army time, although he had fought at the front in several wars and faced countless opponents. His own life had most definitely not been a pleasant ride so far, but as far as he knew Ronus was two years younger than himself and evidently had already experienced much more violent encounters, which were now visible on his skin. He thought of Elphom's words that ‘through certain circumstances’ he had experienced changes to his DNA. On closer examination, he now suspected that this probably had not been a voluntary process. All these grotesque scars spoke their own language. And what that meant for the obvious scars on his soul, he did not even want to think about.

"Don’t stare at me like that," Ronus whispered. Aven looked up in confusion, completely lost in thought. "I know quite well that it isn’t a pleasant sight. Your staring doesn’t make it any easier." Ronus sounded bitter and hurt as he slowly stood up. Aven also got up.

"Forgive me. I was lost in thought, I did not mean to be rude."

Ronus did not answer, but went back into the room and sat down on his bed. Aven quietly followed him and also sat down on his own bed. Once again, the a'Shir did not know what to say. He felt like he already had talked more today than the last two years combined, and still clumsily struggled for words. So he just looked at the human, who was slumped on his bed, and waited.

"Thanks for your help," Ronus said quietly after a while, his eyes on the floor. "I haven’t had a panic attack for quite a while now." He looked like he wanted to add something, but then seemed to scrap that idea. He muttered after a short pause, "I'm sorry, I was quite overwhelmed with the... whole situation."

Although Aven wished that Ronus would behave calmer and more rational, seeing him so broken and quiet was not the goal. "I am sorry. I did not want that to happen," he replied.

"No, I mean ... I'm sorry. For everything. Yesterday and today. I was – I AM overwhelmed. I can’t handle other people very well. And most people can’t handle me either. I'm sorry that I'm so difficult." Ronus’ eyes were still staring at the floor. The a'Shir could not prevent his face slipping a little, due to how honest and surprisingly open he spoke to him. "I’ve had quite a few 'partners' and I’ve never been particularly successful in building any foundation with them. And as you have heard yourself, you are my last chance. That's why I’ll try to pull myself together from now on. Because of that, and because you're not really a boring asshole, but a surprisingly nice super shadow warrior guy." Ronus gave him a faint smile, but still with sad eyes.

Not really a boring asshole? But a surprisingly nice super shadow warrior guy? Well, it was something. At least Ronus seemed to keep his absurd humour even in such insightful situations. Aven was not sure what to answer. He just looked at his partner and luckily, he kept talking, even though his smile quickly disappeared with the next sentence.

"And about the dream thing ... I have nightmares almost every night. I just didn’t know yet that I ... " – Ronus swallowed audibly - "I didn’t know that the transformation happens. I can usually control it." He saw the human biting his lower lip and reaching for his temples with his fingers.

"It was not a complete transformation," Aven said quickly, trying to reassure him. "It was just the eyes and the fingers. You did not get up or looked around. You were just staying in bed and your body kept winding." Aven tried to prevent further panic with his words. Ronus had not been an acute danger – but, knowing his transformation, it was likely that he might be one under the right circumstances. But this fact had just before, in the bathroom, become a problem for another day. Aven also assumed that in the long run there would be more issues to talk about with Ronus. The many scars, the many pills, the hints to his past – in this equation still remained many unknown variables that presented a certain risk.

Ronus looked a little less tense after Aven’s relativizing words, but he still avoided his gaze. "Please don’t tell Sator or Elphom." His voice was only a faint whisper and soaked with fear and sorrow. "Please, I beg you. I can’t mess this up." Then he looked at him and his tone crumbled more and more. "Please Aven. I mustn’t mess this up with you." His eyes searched anxiously and expectantly for a response.

The a'Shir got caught unprepared by the pleading tone and hesitant, hopeful look. Ronus was serious. He had just apologized to him and was serious. And he had more or less asked him to put his trust in him – to trust him despite his problems and fears. Although Aven had just witnessed a massive panic attack that raised more than a few doubts about his mental health, especially in his role as a warrior. Ronus, the obnoxious human with the mysterious past, implicitly promised to take his partnership seriously and in return asked him for his trust. Due to Ronus' blunt honesty and exposed vulnerability in this more than bizarre situation, a tiny smile was flitting across Aven’s mouth for the fraction of a second.

And that was enough for the human. He had not even responded, when Ronus, in turn, showed him the biggest and most sincere smile Aven had seen of him until now. No sardonic grimace, no mocking grin. An expression of genuine joy, reflected even in the amber of his eyes.

"So we are partners, Prince?" Ronus asked, beaming.

Still wrong, but better than rag prince.

"Yes. Partner."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

_And how can you live like you're not of this world_

_I saw you burning, I saw you give up_

_But no one feels safe and your kingdom is dust_

_I saw you sleeping, I saw you wake up_

 

 

 

The Right Ones – Francis International Airport

 


End file.
